CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FALL OF THE ALAMO.
"The enemy are upon us!"
This cry, ringing clearly throughout the Alamo, aroused everybody toaction, and hither and thither ran the soldiers to their various pointsof duty,--some in uniform, and others just as they had leaped up fromtheir couches.
"Are they really coming?" demanded Henry Parker, who had been sleepingbeside Dan, in one of the rooms of the convent.
"I reckon they are, Henry," was the quick response, and up leaped theyouth, and ran, gun in hand, to where Poke Stover was doing guard duty.
"Are they coming, Poke?"
"Yes, Dan, and plenty of 'em, too. They are divided into severaldivisions."
There was no time to say more, for already one of the divisions,commanded by Colonel Duque, was attacking the northern wall. HereLieutenant-Colonel Travis commanded in person. The commander wasbareheaded, and carried a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.
"Now, boys, give it to them hot!" he shouted. "Don't let them get overthe wall. Fire to kill! Fire to save your own lives!" And then thecannon belched forth, followed by a crack-cracking of the smallerfirearms. The aim of the Texans was so deadly that the column wasrepulsed for the moment, and Colonel Duque was seriously wounded.
By this time the divisions to attack the other sides of the mission hadcome up. As one column tried to raise their scaling-ladders, DavyCrockett threw his coonskin cap at them in defiance, and laid one ofthe officers low with a shot from his trusty "Betsy." Fifty other shotsrang out, and the morning air became heavy with the smoke of rifles andcannon.
"We must beat 'em back!" cried Stover, who was close to Crockett, andas the old hunter blazed away so did the frontiersman and Dan, and theyouth had the satisfaction of seeing the Mexican he had aimed at godown, rope and gun in hand, shot through the ankle.
The fighting was now incessant on all sides, but gradually the Mexicansconcentrated on the northern wall. They were yelling like so manydemons, and their officers urged them forward by threats and swordblows, until the first rank was fairly wedged against the stone wall ofthe mission. A cannon belched forth, doing fearful havoc, but those infront could not retreat because of those pushing behind them, and in atwinkle one Mexican soldier was piled above another, until the top ofthe wall was gained, and, as one authority states, they came "tumblingover it like sheep," falling, in some cases, directly on the bodies ofthe Texans below.
"The convent yard is taken!" was the cry. "To the convent! To thehospital!" And as quickly as it could be done the Texans left the yard.
In the crowd were Dan, Stover, and Henry Parker. As the latter turned,a Mexican under-officer aimed his pistol at the young man.
"Down, Henry!" yelled Dan, but, before Parker could drop, the pistolwas discharged and Henry Parker fell like a lump of lead, shot throughthe brain.
The sudden death of his friend made Dan spellbound, and he gazed at thecorpse in horror. Then he felt his arm seized by Poke Stover, and in aminute more found himself being hurried toward the church.
"We can't do anything more," exclaimed the old frontiersman. "Theynumber ten to one, and more. We are doomed, unless we can manage toescape!"
"Poor Henry!" murmured Dan, when he could speak. "What will hismother----"
"Yes, yes, lad, I know; but we can't talk about it now. Come on."
"To where?"
"Anywhere, away from that howling, raging mob of greasers. They'll showus no quarter."
"Travis is dead!" said somebody who was passing them. "They fairlyhacked him to pieces!"
As Stover and Dan ran into the church building, there was a loud reportin the courtyard. The Mexicans had captured one of the cannon, andturned it upon the long ward of the hospital building, and thegrape-shot laid fifteen Texans low. The Texans were now fighting fromroom to room of the convent, and the whole place looked like aslaughter-pen.
"To the church!" came the cry. "To the church! Let the last stand be inthe church!" The cry was taken up on all sides, and every Texan whocould do so ran for the church with all possible speed. In themeantime, the stockade had been carried, and fresh Mexican soldierswere pouring over this in droves.
At the entrance to the church stood Davy Crockett, clubbed rifle inhand, and with the blood pouring from a wound in the head.
"Rally around me, boys!" he shouted. "Don't give up! We are bound towhip 'em yet!" And as the first of the Mexicans came on, he laid two ofthem low with one mighty blow of his favourite "Betsy," that crackedthe rifle in half. And, as the rifle fell, so did lion-hearted DavyCrockett, to rise no more.
With the fall of Crockett, the other Texans, especially those who hademigrated from Tennessee, fought like demons, and soon the whole churchwas so thick with smoke that scarcely one man could be told fromanother. In a side apartment lay Bowie, suffering from a fall from aplatform, where he had been directing operations. As the Mexicansswarmed into the room, Bowie raised himself up and fired his pistols.Seeing this, the Mexicans retreated, and fired on him from behind thedoor, killing him almost instantly.
It had been decided that, should the worst come to the worst, theTexans must fire the powder-magazine located in one part of the church.It was now seen that further resistance would be useless.
"The magazine!" came from half a dozen. "Blow the Mexicans up!"
"I will!" shouted back Major T. C. Evans, commander of the artillery,and started forward with a firebrand for the purpose. The Mexicans,however, saw the movement, and before Evans could go a dozen paces, ascore of guns were aimed at him, and he went down fairly riddled withbullets.
"I'm shot!" cried Poke Stover, in the midst of the din and confusion,and clapped his hand to his left shoulder. He had been leading Dan to arear apartment of the church, between overturned benches and sacks ofwheat and rice.
"Shot?" gasped the boy. "Where? Oh, I hope it isn't serious!"
"It's in the shoulder," and the old frontiersman gave a suppressedgroan.
"Can I do anything for you?"
"No! no! not now, Dan. Come, before it is too late."
"Where to?"
"Let us see if we can't hide from these bloodthirsty greasers. It isworse than useless to stand up ag'in 'em longer!"
Again Stover caught hold of Dan, and the two pushed on through thesmoke and dust. Rifleshots still cracked out, and yells, screams, andcurses filled the air. The Alamo had fallen and now the Mexicans werebent upon butchering every Texan who still remained alive. Out of thewhole gallant garrison not one man was spared!
Presently Dan and his companion entered a small room but a shortdistance away from the powder-magazine. Here all was pitch-dark, as theroom contained no window. There were boxes and barrels stored here, butfor what purpose neither knew. Behind several of the boxes was a nicheabout three feet square, and almost as deep.
"It's not much of a hidin'-place," said Stover, "but I reckon as howit's better nor nothin'. Anyway, we can't do no more than try it. Ifthey root us out, we'll die game."
They squeezed themselves into the opening, Stover with many a supressedgroan over his wounded shoulder, which pained him not a little. Dan hadbeen struck in the side with a flying bit of masonry, and had an uglyscratch under his arm in consequence, but just now he counted this aslittle or nothing. The one thing was to escape with their lives. Tofight further would indeed have been sheer foolishness.
The din was gradually subsiding, and only the occasional yell of aTexan being massacred in cold blood reached their ears. Dan could notkeep himself from shuddering. What a terrible Sunday morning! Hethought of the ranch home, and of his father and Ralph. Would he eversee those loved ones again?
"Hush!" The warning came from Stover, and he placed his hand overRalph's mouth. Footsteps were approaching the little room.
"Hunt the rats out!" came in a rough Spanish voice. "Hunt them out!Don't let one of them escape your bayonets!" And then several Mexicansoldiers entered the room and began to rummage among the boxes andbarrels.